


Brainswashed

by WhatHaveWeDone



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2020-05-20 11:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19375810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatHaveWeDone/pseuds/WhatHaveWeDone
Summary: Brains comes back to the island and causes a little trouble, and it's John who bears the brunt





	1. Chapter 1

“You ok Brians? You seem a little distant.” 

“Hmmm?” 

“Was it a good conference?” 

Conference. Yes, that was right. Brains pulled his gaze back from the window of the small plane, the usually dazzling sea dimmed as it flew beneath them. It had been kind of Scott to offer to give him a lift to and from the Annual International Engineering Pioneers Symposium. Three days of presentations, networking and panels with the finest engineers and mechanics that the world could put forward. It always left him buzzing with ideas. 

Not this time though. Now he felt.... vague.... fuzzy. Maybe he was coming down with something.  

“It was good, thank you. Always so much to consider.” Even though he couldn’t remember any one topic that had been covered. He rubbed his forehead. He must just be overtired.  

“We’ll be landing soon.” Scott said, making a few adjustments on the instrument panels in front of him. “Make sure you get something to eat before you disappear into your workshop. I know you – you'll want to get straight to work on whatever has inspired you over the last couple of days, but if you don’t eat properly first Grandma will just bring you something.” 

“Of course.” Brains murmured, watching from the co-pilot seat as Scott made the final preparations for their decent, the thought of food making him feel slightly queasy.  

It was very kind, the way they treated him. Turn it off. If someone had told him that a simple engineering job straight out of college would lead to him living on a tropical island working for the world’s most advanced rescue organisation he would have called it impossible. Turn it off. And that he’d come to think of these brave men and women as a second family was just icing on the cake. 

“You getting out?” Scott jolted him back – they had landed! And he hadn’t even noticed. Brains blinked heavily to dispel the fog around his mind and brushed off Scott’s concerned hand.  

“Sorry. I was just thinking.” Suddenly filled with an urgency Brains practically fled out of the plane. He had to do something. He had to turn something off. Turn it off. Turn it off now. Off. Off. Off.  

A dreadful beat began to fill his head. Off. Off. Off. Tracking off. Tracking off. Off. 

Brains hurried into his lab, pulling up the main control panel, accessing the tracking systems. Off. Got to turn it off. He could turn them off one at a time, or he could turn them off at the source. The beat became a pounding, one that echoed back and forth between his ears, a hammer into his brain. One hand grasped his head. He wouldn’t have time to do them individually before his brain exploded, or that’s how it felt.  

Off. Off. Off. Off. 

The source. Turn the source off. He pulled another system up, entering override codes. 

“Brains? Is something wrong?” John’s transparent form appeared out of nowhere, alerted by the overrides.  

Brains moved as quickly as he could. He had to stop the pounding. 

Off. Off. Off.  

“Brains? What the – Brains! Stop it! It’s overloading!” But Brains couldn’t hear John’s cries over the thunder. “It’s going to - “ 

Brains sat back heavily in his chair and waited as the thumping faded, to be filled with a heavy cotton wool instead.  He used to love cotton wool as a child. He would stuff it in old socks to make tiny pillows for his grandparents cats, and stuck it on the underside of his homework desk. He made his own miniature skyscape with painted on stars and fluffy clouds. He would lie under there, feet sticking into his room, and dream he could touch the sky.  

“Grandma sent me down with these.” Gordon came trundling into the room, tray in hand. “But don’t worry, I won’t tell her if you eat them.” He deposited the tray on an empty surface, gave a wink as he turned and dashed out again. How long had he been down here? Brains glanced at the clock – hours! 

Brains ran his hands through his hair, confused as to what had absorbed him so. He wasn’t working on anything, was he? He had just come back from..... somewhere. Somewhere. Why couldn’t he remember? Maybe he was coming down with something.  

Brains felt restless and he began to pace. Nervous energy filled him and a sense of dread as if he’d done something terrible. Something awful. Maybe he’d dreamed it though. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he’d forgotten something. Like a birthday.  

No. He needed to do something. His pacing started to echo in his head, in time with his footsteps, in time with his heartbeat. He needed to..... He needed to..... He needed to …... do something. He needed to go.  

Brains turned on his heal and headed out. He wasn’t sure where he was going until he strode into Thunderbird Two’s hanger but it felt right and lessened the pounding in his head.  

Virgil was sitting on the open pod ramp, tinkering with some component or other, tools scattered at his feet and greasy cloth in hand.  He gave a nod in greeting but carried on his work. He clearly wasn’t going anywhere. Go. Go.  

Walking up the ramp into the pod, Brains grabbed a wrench from the back wall – a full set of tools was always on hand for any on-mission emergency repairs. He hefted it, feeling the grip, and with one swift movement struck Virgil across the back of the head. Virgil crumpled without a sound, and Brains made his way to the cockpit.  

Brains had designed most of this, consulted on everything else, but he was still slow to start up the lumbering machine. Practice. He didn’t have practice. He knew the procedures but didn’t do any of the endless repetition that turned launching into a smooth process. But he got there. Closing the pod ramp. Lowering the main fuselage. Turning to face the launch way. Each action eased the pulsing, each hesitation stoked it.  

“What the hell Brains!” Virgil’s angry voice from behind him, and then the pilot was beside him, flicking switches and turning off systems careless of the blood that matted the back of his head. He can't have been unconscious for very long, just long enough to make him angry. 

“I have to go. I have to take it.” Brains said, as if that would explain something he didn’t understand himself.  

“Take it? Take Thunderbird Two? Like hell you are.” Virgil was angry. “Where the hell do you think you are taking her?” 

“I don’t - I don’t know. I just have to - “ Brains reached for the controls, urged on by the pain in his head.  

A firm hand on his wrist. Stopping him from entering the engine start up sequence. Go. Go.  All of a sudden Brains was aware just how _strong_ Virgil was. How _imposing_ when he wanted to be. When he was right in your space. He didn’t often use his muscles when not on a rescue. But he _could._  

Brains’ hand trembled against Virgil’s grip as he grasped for the controls, but he couldn’t move an inch.  

“I have to. I have to go. I have to. Take it.”  

Virgil’s thunderous expressions slowly morphed from fury to concern though Brains could barely tell from behind his cloud of pain. 

“Where?” he asked simply. 

“I don’t know. I didn’t know I needed to take it until I was here and now- “ 

“And now you need to take Two. I get it. But I’m not going to let you.” Virgil said, resolute as a mountain.   

“Please. It hurts.” And it did. The pounding, a bass drum right between the eyes.  

“No.” Go. “I need you to tell me what happened. How long have you been feeling like this?” Take it. “How long have you had impulses like this, that cause you pain if you don’t obey them?” 

“Only today.” Take it. “Only since I got back.” Take it. Brains screwed his eyes shut, but that did nothing. 

“Then it would have been at the conference. You met with someone.” 

Trembling all over now, a hammer drill in his head, Brains said “I met a lot of people.” 

“This would have been on your own. Probably just you and him, in private somewhere.” 

His hotel room. He had thought it was room service.  

“You probably can’t really remember what he looked like - ” 

The man was smartly dressed but there was nothing else memorable about him, except -  

“ - Except his eyes” Virgil was continuing. “He has really distinctive eyes.” 

The looked into his soul. Looked into his soul and found him lacking. That was when the pounding started. 

“He would have been talking to you, but you barely noticed what he was saying because of a device he carries. It disrupts brain waves. Makes the target highly suggestable.” 

The man had been talking, but the words didn’t register, the heavy thudding in his head removing all possibility of thought. 

“But you can fight past it.” Virgil was whispering in his ear, will as strong as his grip was. “You _will_ fight past it.” 

Nails scratched down his spine, stabbing and burning the longer he lingered, the longer he left his mission unfulfilled. 

“I. Can’t. I. Have. To.” Brains stuttered, sweat beading his brow. 

“You can. I won’t let him have you. You’re our family.” 

Family. He wasn’t going to hurt his family.  

If Brains thought there was pain before, but it was nothing compared to the lightning that flashed over him now, burning down his veins. The thudding consolidated into a voice that was stern and commanding – it gave no care for his own needs or feelings. Where before it was subtle in it’s control it now attempted to subsume all that made him _Brains._  

Go. Take it. 

No. 

Go. Take it. 

No. 

Take it. 

No. 

Take it. 

NO

Washed away in a flash flood of feeling Brains lost all sense of space and time, each heartbeat the age of a universe and twice as empty.  He wondered in a starless sky the only points of light were the flames of his family – this family that had taken him in and made him their own – and they were the anchor that pulled him back. 

When at last he came back to himself the cockpit was somewhat crowded with Scott staring at him intently and Gordon tending the ugly looking wound on the back of Virgil’s head. It was strange to be alone in his own head again: a shadowing presence on his shoulder that had been barely noticed was swept away and the day was all the brighter for it.  

“You back to being you?” Scott asked passing him a bottle of water. Gordon threw him a dubious glance, but didn’t stop his careful work. 

“Yeah, I am. That was - “ Brains took a deep breath. His mind still felt fuzzy and confused, memories disjointed but he was clear about the weight of a wrench in his hand. “I’m sorry Virgil. I -” 

Virgil interrupted, holding up a hand. “Don’t. We know it wasn’t you. We know that The Hood has some illegal devices and breaking the conditioning can be tough, but I knew you could do it.” 

“I should have noticed something was off” Scott grimaced “you were out of sorts all the way back.” 

“What we need is something to counteract his tech.” Gordon piped up. 

“That’s a worry for another day, perhaps when Brains is feeling a bit better.” 

“Hmmm,  I do have a new perspective now,” He agreed, opening the bottle and taking small sips. 

“We should have expected an attack: we know he’s after our machines.” 

Virgil waved Gordon away impatiently, and the younger rolled his eyes and removed his latex gloves. “The joke would have been on him though, you can’t just fly a bird out the hanger: we can find them anywhere in the world.” 

“Ha! Yeah.” Scott was agreeing, but another memory reared it's ugly head. Entering overrides. Sending a power surge. John being cut off abruptly.  

Scott did a double take – seeing how Brains had frozen and paled. “What is it?” 

“I think he did think of that. I- I think I destroyed any way to track a stolen machine. I think I destroyed Thunderbird Five.” 


	2. Chapter 2

A wave of red across his display and John’s reaction was instant – alert and concerned. Alpha One command  overrides were only to be used in the most extreme situations ,  such as when the pilot was incapacitated or the machine was compromised , so seeing control wrested from him during what was a normal and peaceful Friday morning was a shock.

Putting down the data pad he had been reading John activated the holo-comm and  patched  straight into the research lap. “Brains? Is something wrong?” 

While waiting for a response John was trying to work out exactly what the issue was; he no longer had access to most systems and the ones on read-only didn’t show any problems. All the Thunderbirds took a large amount of general maintenance to run smoothly and reliably and John took that a step further as he lived on his, so he was confident there hadn’t been so much as a dodgy battery in months.  There was nothing to justify Brains taking over all of Five’s systems, never mind shutting down the circuit breakers -  from deepening John could see them turning off in a cascade. Without them he would be vulnerable to - 

  -  the  power surge that Brains had just initiated.

_ Shit. _

John’s mind was racing and heartrate picked up . “Brains? What the – Brains! Stop it! It’s overloading!” He yelled, aghast. Without the virtual circuit breakers that power surge would destroy the battery storage and probably take up the whole station . And he didn’t have the access to stop it. 

Stomping on a wave of panic John gave a kick off a wall and floated to the main power array. The push button panel came off quickly but sparks were already beginning to fly – resistors and wiring hissing and spitting like hot fat. Maybe he couldn’t stop the surge, but  per h aps he could redirect it. 

With deft fingers John began to physically pull the boards out of their housings – letting go as soon as they were free and leaving them to float by his head. There were twenty to pull to completely shut down the systems. Twenty to remove  -  carefully   - so they could be reinserted without damage. Hopefully there would be something to reinsert them into afterwards. If he pulled the circuits the power surge would have no-where to go and it would redirect into secondary systems.  Secondary systems like life support.  Not ideal but the least bad option at his disposal.

 As each circuit slid out it’s housing the whine of a station under strain kicked up a notch, pitch increasing until Five was screaming, smoke beginning to form from the overburdened wiring. The power surge still ballooned and he was only half way there. It wasn’t going to be enough! He wasn’t quick enough. His heart sank, there were just too many.

“It’s going to - “ John’s words were cut off as the equipment in front of him exploded, massive surges of power destroying the remaining circuits and sparking instant combustion. Caught in the wave John was thrown across the whole length of the station, hitting hard against the opposing wall with a dull thud.

Lights flashed behind his eyes as his skull cracked against the bulkhead and breath was stolen from his lungs. Dazed, he floated, barely able to raise his arm to protect his face from the intense heat bellowing from the bowels of his station. There was a roaring in his ears that he couldn’t tell if it were from his own frantic  pulse  or the inferno that was springing up just a few feet away. His vision was blurry, but that could be  t h e h eat  or the blow to the head – pain spiderwebbing over the back of his skull.

If there had been gravity he would have been on the floor somewhere: instead he hung with the perfect view of his ship ripping itself apart, stunned enough that he couldn’t do anything about it. Emergency alarms blared: signals that would go no-where because the overrides were in place. Fire suppression systems still worked and thankfully began to apply a cloud of CO2 to the damage before the fire burned up all the oxygen.

John knew he should be doing something, but  with thoughts as thick as honey and his movements just as slow a ll he could do was watch helplessly . A rumble deep inside the power array sent shudders through Five and the power control unit ripped itself open. Emergency lighting turned on, bulkheads went down and pieces of the power conduits careened in all  direction s, including his own.  All went back. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys. So, So. I almost had this finished another two thousand words and two chapters and we would have been done. Then I read it back and while it was ok, it didn't really go where I wanted it to. Most of what I have done will be incorporated at some point but I thought you guys deserved better - thank you for inspiring me to do better. If we're going to whump John, lets do it probably shall we? Let me know what you think. :)

 

“I think I destroyed Thunderbird Five.” And just like that Scott’s stomach shrank and solidified, a ball of lead that threatened to drag him down. By the way Brains drew back Scott must have thrown him a horrendous look, but he didn’t have time to worry about the engineer’s feelings.  

“I’ll get Alan,” Virgil said, swinging round and out of the cockpit in a smooth practiced motion. 

“What did you do?” Gordon whispered, aghast. 

“I took down some of the safeties and sent a power surge. It will have destroyed the battery banks.” Brains looked sick as he spoke and Scott thought he probably looked the same, unable to fully take it in. Thunderbird Five was well protected from outside threats – from meteors to hijack – but before today Scott hadn’t considered the risk of _internal_ threats.  “I locked John out and buried EOS in a repeating diagnostic protocol, neither of them will have been able to stop it.” 

“How long ago?” Scott demanded. 

“I’m not sure. I’m sorry,” Brains put a hand to his forehead “but I don’t really have any idea. Some of my memories are patchy. How long since we landed?” 

“Four hours, nearly.” 

“I think it was soon after that. Three maybe?” 

Scott took a deep breath. Three hours. Three hours John could have been alone, hurt, in trouble. Or dead. He reached for the controls. 

“This is Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird Five, come in Five.” Nothing, not even static. “John, please respond.” 

“A ‘bird can’t take serious damage and we know nothing about it, can it?” Gordon queried.  

Brains was shaking his head, pale and terrified. Evidently there was a way that it could. Scott would be angry about how that was possible later. But later, not now.  

Alan’s voice interjected into room. “Three will be ready to launch in four minutes, Scott, if you are coming get a move on.” 

“I’m on my way.” he replied. “Gordon, I need you to stay here. Keep trying to raise Five and if you get anything let us know immediately. Brains, if you remember anything that could help, again we need to know straight away. And we might need you once we get there.” Depending on the state of the station. Depending on what had happened to John. The knot in Scott’s stomach tightened and he hurried into his uniform and up into Thunderbird Three. 

Virgil was already strapped in to the co-pilots seat, and Scott raised a questioning eyebrow. “You gonna be alright for a trip to space with that head wound? We should be getting you to the med-bay for a concussion check.” 

“Later. I promise. It’s just a bump, I’ve had worse doing maintenance.” Virgil said as Scott settled into a passenger seat. They exchanged a grim glance behind Alan’s back as he was completing his pre-flight checks and Scott was pleased Virgil was there for support. They needed him for his piloting skills but there was no way Scott was letting Alan on that station before the situation had been properly assessed. 

Pushed back into his seat with the acceleration of Three’s launch Scott was grateful for the g-forces and the seat belts – he could easily believe they were the only things keeping him upright right now: worry and fear raging and turning his bones to mush as the rest of him solidified. The sky fell away and Three rose into low orbit, gravity left behind: the lightness of Scott’s body at odds with the heaviness in his heart.  

“I’ve got visuals on Five.” Alan said, very calmly for the circumstances. “It looks... it looks ok.” And it did, twisting peacefully in geo-synchronous orbit, but that did nothing to ease the knot in Scott’s stomach or the tension from his shoulders. 

“I still can’t raise him.” Gordon said, image popping up.  

“Me neither,” Alan confirmed, flicking a few switches “I’m unable to connect to any of Five’s systems but external scans show no damage and detect that the atmosphere is intact.” 

“Can you dock?” Virgil asked. 

“Without an interface it will be tricky, but I can do it.” Alan nodded. 

“Great.” Scott briefly squeezed his youngest brother’s shoulder. “Let’s get suited up just in case Virgil.” 

“I should come too.”  

“No Alan, stay here.” Virgil said, on the same page as Scott, putting a hand to forestall his younger brother. “Keep the engine running, we’ll call you if we need you.” If the worst had happened..... well, Alan was not going to walking into that, no way no how. 

With an impressive display of skill Alan matched course with Five and got close enough that the automated docking clamps activated. Once through the airlock Scott and Virgil were faced with an eerie display – dim emergency lighting reflecting off floating debris cluttering the corridors. After manual confirmation that there was a breathable atmosphere Scott removed his helmet and the distinct smell of scorched circuitry assaulted him.  It was something right out of a horror movie and his own nightmares.  

“John?” He called out, voice echoing slightly. Just like across the airwaves there was no response, and they moved deeper into the station, pushing damaged panels out of their way to the main control centre. Usually this was alight with holograms, streams of data and readouts, maps, comms, simulations and programming. A thousand pieces of information that John choregraphed in an intricate dance of priorities, sifting the essential from the useful from the background static of interesting but useless party icebreakers. Now it was silent and dark, as it hadn’t been in years.  

“John!” Virgil grabbed Scott’s arm to draw his attention as he pointed to a drifting figure on the far side of the room, the lack of gravity making it look like he was caught in a movie freeze frame. 

With a few swift movements they were on him. Scott reached out, hesitantly at first but then with determination, and felt at John’s neck for a pulse. He closed his eyes briefly before confirming to Virgil “He’s alive.” 

But only just. This close he could hear that John was breathing, tough it was worryingly laboured. Scott activated his suit’s bio-reader to get the more detailed information than that would be needed to move him safely, something more than the weak fluttering beneath his fingers.  Blood spattered across John’s face, his uniform was torn and burnt. Readouts coming in described burns to arms and chest, bruises, broken bones, a head injury and...... internal injuries? That was worrying.  

“Scott, look.” Virgil gently turned John's floating form, the twisting revealing on the hidden side a piece of shrapnel buried in his abdomen, dark blood oozing slowly from around the wound, balling strangely in the lack of gravity. “I’ll get him stabilised, you get Three ready.”  

Scott nodded and left John in Virgil’s capable hands. He kicked back into Three and started setting up for patient transfer, opening up the med-bed and switching on the monitoring systems.  

“Is... is he ok?” Alan asked hesitantly, the holographic representations of Gordon and Brains watching intently.  

Scott’s instinct as a big brother was to envelope Alan in a hug and tell him everything was going to be alright. Scott’s instinct as a rescuer was to offer realistic reassurance only: it did no good to make empty promises. He fell back on commander – practical instructions only. 

“He’s hurt and needs a hospital. Find us somewhere he can get urgent treatment. Also, Brains? We need a diagnostic of Five’s systems before we leave. We have to make sure it’s safe.” Losing their communication hub to an explosion or having it drop out of orbit was one headache he could do without.  

Grabbing a first aid pack and the stretcher Scott made his way back into the station, to where Virgil was trying to rouse John. He was tapping at his cheek, speaking in an urgent tone to try and grab his attention. The other hand was pushed tightly against his side, or as tightly as was possible in zero-g. 

“John, can you hear me? Come on, open your eyes if you can. Come on, John, try and open your eyes for me.” Scott studied John’s face, noting the slight frown amongst the scrapes and bruises. 

“Any response?” Scott asked quietly, handing Virgil a bandaging pack that would put an even pressure on any open wound. 

“Not really,” Virgil said “he’s muttering but I’m not really happy with that.” 

“Then we need to move him fast.” 

“Agreed.” 

“I’ll set up an IV as soon as he’s in board. Do you think he’s lost much blood?” 

“it’s difficult to tell but I don’t think so. We shouldn’t move that shrapnel though.” 

With extreme care they manoeuvred their astronaut brother onto the stretcher and into the safety of Thunderbird Three. Carefully Virgil strapped him in for the flight while Scott inserted a line and connected a bag of fluids – with no blood on board it was the best they could do.  

“You got a flight plan Alan?” He asked as he worked.  

The younger Tracey swallowed hard at seeing John’s condition but answered calmly. “Houston, Texas. They have emergency medical facilities as well as somewhere to safely land and take off in an interstellar rocket. We’ve got priority and they are standing by.” 

“Good job. Brains?” 

“I don’t know how but the damage is relatively minor. The main power core will need to be rebuilt but all other systems are functioning normally, if on reduced power. I’m just getting ready to unlock everything.” 

“That’s great news.” Scott leaned down to better hear as John mumbled something, hoping to catch the words, but it was too slurred. He wasn’t coming round. Scott settled an oxygen mask over his mouth in the hopes it would help.  

“Turn Five back on then.” Scott said. “We can reroute most control for the island for now while you put together a repair plan.” 

“Maybe everything except EOS.” Virgil suggested, strapping himself in now. “I know she’s useful but I don’t think now is a good time for her to come on line. Her reaction might be...... extreme.”  

Scott thought of their first couple of encounters with the AI and her ferocious reactions to people she deemed a threat. Since John had won her trust she had mellowed, but transferred that self-preservation into John-preservation. That was mostly useful, and usually Scott wouldn’t be without the strange new addition to their family, but he did _not_ want to find out what she would do when she found out that John was on the way to the hospital, and that one of their own was involved.  

“Agreed. We’ll wake her up when John is able to talk to her.” And dear god he hoped that was soon. “Brains?” 

“FAB.” the engineer confirmed. 

“Then let’s get going Alan. Take it easy but make it quick. I’d describe his condition as stable but critical.” 

The Earth rose up to hit them in the face, but Alan navigated the return to gravity with ease. John gave a groan as weight and pressure returned, but didn’t stir or open his eyes. Being the closest Scott reached out to lay a hand gently on John’s forehead – maybe John wouldn’t get much comfort from it, but Scott did it anyway.  

From where he was sat Scott could keep an eye on the readouts that were steady but still concerning. He knew what serious injuries looked like, knew when blood pressure was too low, where the vital organs were, how serious head injuries could be. He tried not to think about other people he had transported with similar. He tried not to remember if they had survived.  

Alan had barely shut down the engines before a medical team had approached the giant red rocket, and whisked John swiftly away. Scott ordered Alan to secure Three, and pestered Virgil until he got his own head wound seen to after at last admitting that maybe, perhaps, his head might be hurting just a little.  

Scott was escorted to a hastily cleared debriefing room - this wasn’t a public hospital so comfortable waiting rooms and family support counsellors weren’t a thing here. He sank into an uncomfortable chair and grasped his head with both hands. He must still be adjusting to gravity as the weight inside continued to increase, twisting around his heart and lungs, gradually turning him to stone as his little brother fought for his life. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're all wonderful. And thank you to TigreMalabarista for the information about Houston - I hope I haven't mangled the city too badly to fit it into the story.
> 
> I have also made John both the middle child, and Scott's first little brother. So everyone is happy, or no-one is.
> 
> Oh, and there is as much medical accuracy here as you can expect from ninety seconds of googling. You have been warned.

Scott had sat in a hospital once before waiting for news about John. Grandma had been with him then, and a tiny toddling Virgil. Dad was in with Mom of course, and he had remembered sitting on a chair that was far too big, kicking legs that would take years to reach the floor. He was getting a baby brother! Well, another one, but he didn’t remember getting Virgil, not really: he had always been there. So in a way this was Scott’s first baby brother and he was excited to meet him. Grandma Tracy had given him chocolate milk and read him a story until Dad had come in with a something squirming wrapped in a blanket. 

He was alone this time – Virgil had been instructed to go home and rest from the mild concussion he had been hiding, and he would obey a doctor in a way he would never listen to Scott. Besides, maybe it was better that Virgil was home, keeping everyone hanging together there:  it wasn’t really appropriate for the International Rescue clan to descend on a working GDF facility for a wait of  indeterminate length. 

At some point an intern of some sort had delivered him a coffee, but it had grown cold untouched , the accompanying  sandwich warm and limp.  For a while Scott had sat, then he had paced, then he had sat again, filled with an anxiety induced energy. Waiting was not his strong suit, the urge to leap into action usually tempered by the steadying influence of Virgil or John. 

John’s blanket had been orange. Mom had made it herself. John still had it, kept safely at home neatly folded in his dresser. He’d received some teasing through the years that his blanket matched his hair. He hadn’t had hair the first time Scott met him of course, not even a wisp. That had puzzled a young Scott not used to babies. He had asked Dad who had taken his hair and if they would  giveit back.

“Mr Tracy?” A doctor opened the door and asked. Scott came to his feet instantly with a shiver of fear.

“Yes. Is there news?”

“There is.” Thankfully he was straight to the point, all business. “John is out of surgery and has been moved to recovery. We’ve removed multiple pieces of shrapnel and repaired the internal damage – we managed to save his liver. I’m going to get a burns specialist to look at his arms: it’s not really my area of expertise, but I don’t believe he will need skin grafts. Broken bones will just take time, but right now we are waiting for the swelling on his brain to go down.”

There was a lot of information there and the usual clear-headed Scott couldn’t really take it in – after all he didn’t have John to feed him only the data that was critical. 

“Is he awake? Can I see him?”

“You can see him, but he’s not going to be awake. Not for a while.”

“Is he sedated?”

“In a way, but medically no. He had a very severe blow to the head that has caused extensive swelling on the brain. He will remain unconscious until that has eased, and to be honest that’s probably best right now.”

“So you  _ can’t  _ wake him up? You’re telling me he’s in a coma.”

“That’s right. Would you like to see him now?”

Scott just nodded dumbly and followed as he was led down the corridor. 

Dad had laughed and told him that John would have hair later. He had knelt down so he was low enough for his two other sons to be able to see, though Virgil was more interested in the  velcro on his shoes. Scott remembered being entranced by John’s tiny fingers at the end of his tiny hands, that were waving and grasping at the air. He had reached out tentatively, hesitantly, encouraged by a nod from his father, and gently stroked John’s cheek. John had burbled, probably a nothing noise made by new-borns the world over but for Scott that had been a hello, clear as day. 

John had been put in a private room, the attending nurse excusing himself discreetly. The doctor left him at the door with a warning to be careful, to be quiet. Scott’s heart softly broke at the second time he had ever seen John in a hospital. 

It seemed a nice room, as hospitals went. Aside from the bed of course there was room for a couple of chairs, a small table and a door to the private bathroom. The old mission control facilities from the original moon landings had been revamped out of some form of nostalgia when space travel became more common, and now fused the theoretical and the practical. Command centers and training facilities and launch pads were now all at the same location rather than hundreds of miles apart and this particular room would have a much sort-after view of any landings. 

John would be thrilled if he had been awake to see it. 

All the essential accoutrements of a medical facility were in place: wires attached to John’s chest, tubes in his nose, iv lines to the back of his hand and the crook of his elbow. Both of his forearms were wrapped in what Scott recognised as specialist bandaging for the treatment of burns while more standard bandaging wrapped his upper chest. Several surgical dressings were in evidence across his torso and legs. Had he been injured there as well? How had Scott missed that? 

John had been a little yellow when Scott first met him, just a touch of jaundice that faded quickly to his naturally pale complication, but now his skin tone was more grey: sallow in a way that should be impossible in a few short hours.

Scott moved closer to get a look at the screens displaying his vitals: everything seemed steady but sometimes computers were no match for reality. Softly felt for John’s wrist for his pulse, counting carefully and timing it against his own. Once satisfied he rested his fingers on John’s chest – mindful of his injuries, as light as a feather – just to  _ feel  _ the slow  movement  for himself. 

This time there was no response to his touch – John didn’t so much as twitch. Of all the Tracy brothers John was definitely the least fidgety, tending to direct his energy inward instead. All that meant was that went he did move it was in sudden and unexpected bursts – reading in one position for so long he had become camouflaged John would leap up in a flurry and rush off to explain to the nearest victim whatever exciting thing he had just learnt. This wasn’t the stillness of concentration, or even of sleep. It went much deeper than that. 

Scott pulled a nearby chair closer to the bed so he could sit, elbow resting on the bed, hand covering John’s. Baby John had gripped his hand that first day, held it firmly despite his small size. Scott couldn’t hold on tightly as he wanted to, so he settled for less. But the promise was just as fervent as  the one he had whispered the day John was born, leaning in close over the blanket wrapped bundle.

“I’m your big brother and I’m going to look out for you. Come home soon John.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have also made John both the middle child, and Scott's first little brother. So everyone is happy, or no-one is.


	5. Chapter 5

Brains wasn’t a hard man to find. If he wasn’t in his room, or the hangers he would be in his labs. Gordon leant in the doorway, taking in the scene for a moment, assessing the situation. Never leap before you look, that was his motto. Not that he followed that motto, but anyway. 

Brains was sketching on a large piece of paper taped down to an even larger drafting table. He was working furiously, pencil in hand and pen behind his ear, in broad strokes. He paused in his frantic movements to make a few annotations. “What do you want, Gordon?”

“Scott is on, he’s going to give us an update. John’s out of surgery.”

“That’s really good news.” Brains said, but continued on drawing.

Gordon frowned in annoyance “Yeah, it is. You coming up to hear the details?”

“No, I don’t think so.” 

“Seriously Brains? You have something better do to?” He crossed his arms.

“I have work to do.” Brains said absently, turning the page round to view from a different angle. 

“Work?” Gordon stormed fully into the room, and slammed his hand on the page, almost incoherent with a sudden rage that anyone would be doing anything apart from anxiously waiting for news right now. “John is in  _ hospital.   _ Did you see the look on Alan’s face when he got back? This is serious, really serious, and we all need to be together for this.”

Brains tried to move Gordon’s hand, not doubt to continue whatever doodling he was doing.

“Do you not care?” Gordon hissed.

“Of course I care.”

“Well it doesn’t look like it.”

“Maybe you should go Gordon, they’ll be waiting.”

Gordon did, turning on his heal before he said something he would later regret. He got out a lot of aggression stomping up the stairs and tried not to let his foul mood bleed over as he joined the others on the couch, circled around where Scott appeared, translucent as a ghost.  _ Bad phrasing Gordon  _ he thought to himself.

“Where’s Brains?” Virgil asked. 

“Not coming”  Gordon replied curtly . 

Virgil raised a curious eyebrow but Gordon shook his head – he'd tell him later. Maybe. 

They’d all spent the last six or so hours distracting themselves in their own way. Gordon was still damp from swimming laps. Grandma had been stress baking and they would all pay for it later. Kayo had been working out, and whoever crossed her next would be the one paying for it. Virgil was meant to be resting and had been all but banned from the hanger so had taken apart and reassembled the toaster three times. Alan had been pulled from his room where he was doing homework of all things. 

“Spit it out Scott.” And for a wonder Scott didn’t dress Gordon down for his tone, and did indeed spit it out.

“He’s out of surgery and stable.” A collectively held breath was released in the room , though the tension remained . “They only gave me an overview of his injuries like I was some sort of civilian, so I had to get most of it out of the med-displays. ” 

Although far from medical professionals they all had much more than basic first aid training and would easily be able to interpret a read out if it was already provided.

“Three broken ribs and a hairline fracture to the shoulder blade. Second degree burns to both arms and some to the chest. Shrapnel..... shrapnel pierced his liver but was successfully removed, as were some other pieces that didn’t do as much damage. He’s got a lot of bruising internal and external. He’s had four ….. four.....pints of blood.” With each sentence Scott’s voice wavered more and he visibly had to force himself to go on. “He’s had a serious blow.... or blows..... to the head..... they don’t know when he is going to wake up.”

“ But, he’ll be alright, won’t he Scott?” Alan asked, hopeful. “He’s in a hospital. He just needs some time.”

Gordon tried not to lock eyes with anyone and swallowed suddenly rising bile at the list of John’s injuries ranging from serious to critical. His fists clenched in the fabric of his shorts.

Scott glanced off to one side briefly, to where John probably lay. “He’s breathing on his own. Blood pressure has come up. Heart rate is steady.”

“Then he’ll be fine. Just you wait. Just you see.” Alan was bolstered by this but the other’s faces – the ones with a little more experience - were grim.

Rather than  address  that, Virgil asked “What’s the situation on visitors?”

“Not too many at a time. And we still have an operation to run.”

“You are not serious Scott?” Kayo was aghast. “No way does anyone heave their head in the game enough to be safe out there. And if you were thinking straight you would realise it.”

Scott nodded absently, again glancing to one side. “Sure, that’s fine. Tell the GDF they are on their own for a bit.”

“We’ll take it in turns” Virgil decided. “To make sure we don’t overwhelm him.”

“Good plan. I’ll leave it to you. I’ll see you soon.” And Scott signed off with an abruptness that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Rude.” muttered Gordon but Alan was looking thoughtful.

“You know,” the youngest said “I think he just came off a flight before he went to pick Brains up – I think he’s been up over twenty four hours at this point.”

“Ok, I’ll give him a pass but only for now. ” Gordon stood and stretched. “W ho’s going to visit first?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had to slow down a little with my updates while I work out where this is going. Well, I do know where it's going but have to decide how and where to end it.


	6. Chapter 6

They gave that dubious honour to Grandma: she was usually the  one  left behind and had years of experience of waiting while her family was facing danger, it seemed needlessly cruel for her to have to wait this time. She was flown out by Gordon himself as Virgil was still barred from the cockpit. A few hours later Scott bought her back, got a shower, change of clothes and  he  went out  again  with Alan. It was a complex ballet of flights and sleep and too much worry and short words and nervous waiting. 

_ Thinking was so difficult. It was dark and confusing and thinking was hard. His thoughts flowed like treacle: that is to say they moved, but nowhere fast. _ _ It wasn’t always this dark. There used to be light and colour and movement but he was damned if he could remember where that was. _

One of the first things they did was set up a  holo -scanner in the hospital room so back on the island hung a permanent translucent image of John. It was a strangely morbid centrepiece to the couches and though it wasn’t the same as being there it was somewhat of a relief to see him even if it was half a world away.

General consensus from the medical community was to talk to the patient, and talking was a thing that Tracy’s could do in spades. They said good morning to the projection with cereal bowls in hand and goodnight when heading to bed. Alan moved his gaming from his bedroom and narrated non-stop for three hours. Virgil talked through the latest upgrades for Two, bouncing ideas off his unconscious brother. Gordon read aloud: magazines, books, the news: anything that was to hand. Scott was mostly a silent observer:  he was there in person  holding John’s hand lost in his own thoughts while the rest of the family filled the airwaves. 

_ Sometimes there was a rumble in the distance, a thunder of voices that echoed across the darkness. Sometimes it was silent. The thunder was awful because of the nagging feeling that there should be some sense to it. The oppressive silence was worse for the isolation it bought.  _

In  general the doctors were pleased with his progress despite the stumbling blocks. One evening John had some type of fit and Scott was escorted firmly into the corridor to wait. They had said it was to be expected, that it didn’t mean anything but Scott had felt his blood pressure rise a few notches when the alarms started to sound and John’s previously lax form started to spasm and it hadn’t gone down again when he was allowed back in the room.  That had been after John was stabilised and there was another round of  xrays to make sure that none of  the broken ribs had shifted to pierce delicate internal organs. 

_ Pins stabbed into, through him. Sharp and burning they came from nowhere with no warning. How could he protect himself if he had no warning? There was someone who was meant to help with that. Where was she? _ _ He wasn’t used to being alone any more but there was no-one else here.  _

The next day  John' s temperature spiked  despite the cocktail of antibiotics being pumped through his  I.v . Scott didn’t move from the bedside even to stretch his legs for the next twelve hours while the infection waxed and waned; potentially deadly for a body already under so much strain.  John’s face paled and flushed in turns, his skin taking on a clammy film of sweat until the infection lost  it’s hold.

_ It was too warm. It was cold. It was burning and icy and close and cloying and he couldn’t breathe and the pressure was getting worse. The thunder was as loud as ever. Some of it sounded familiar now. Did he know it from before? Or was he just getting used to it? _

Virgil was a problem s potter: senses always keen for the first sign of an avalanche or increased stress on a loadbearing yet damaged wall. He had a lot of practice and he had become rather good at it so he’d spotted  a number of problems  in the four days that John had been in hospital . 

Luckily he was also a problem solver. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news! While writing this short chapter I have come up with an ending to this story, so I can write with a bit more confidence now I know where it's going to end up. Not that some of you would be exactly dissapointed with an infinite number of chapters with John in a hospital bed, but still.


	7. Chapter 7

Problem 1:  Brains had not left his workshop since John had been taken to hospital.

Brains was one of those men that had periods of intense focus so 36 hours stints in the workshop weren’t unusual when an idea gripped him. When that first flush of inspiration passed he would emerge to eat, badly explain his latest innovation to the nearest ear  – even if that were Max -   before passing out. Sometimes even in his own bed.

This was different. 

Everybody had been a bit distracted, a bit restless : odd sleeping patterns  exacerbating  the usual chaos of so many people living so closely together, so it was easy to miss. That was just an excuse though, and one that didn’t se t well with Virgil. They should be better than this. They should notice this stuff.  _ He  _ should have noticed much sooner. 

Loading up with the best weapons he had to hand Virgil made his way into the depths of the island. Their Dad had put Brain’s equipment right in the centre – close to the hangers for access but far away from the bustle of the house to minimise distractions. It had a large skylight from a light well but no normal windows – at the engineer's request – so that he had maximum wall space for when he ran out of board space.

Entering the room, Virgil thought that he had never seen the walls used so much. Not just a couple of sheets, but layers faced him , taped one on tip of another . Sidling in Virgil looked at the nearest one, lifting the corner to see underneath. Circuit diagrams and structural calculations, some angrily crossed out where they obviously weren’t correct. 

Brians had his back to the door, manipulating a holographic simulation in the middle of the room. Up close Virgil couldn’t make out what it was, but when Brains zoomed out it was clearly one of  Five’s power arrays. Of course. 

With Brains this focused there could be no subtle hints, no dancing around the subject. You had to get straight into the conversation.

“Brains,” Virgil announced himself. “You need to eat” He brandished the sandwiches, pork pie, and millionaires shortcake he had piled up from upstairs. 

“I’ve eaten!” Brains didn’t turn around, waving at a pile of protein bar wrappers in the bin.

“Doesn’t count.” Virgil moved round so he was directly in Brain’s eyeline, then walked  _ through  _ the hologram. Brains frowned as his work was interrupted, and was forced to take the  outflung food.  “First you are going to eat this. Then you are going to get some sleep that isn’t pr - opped across a desk. Then you are going to see John.”

“I don’t have time. I have work to do.” Brains spoke around the sandwich that he had stuffed in his mouth, the speed at which he was chewing telegraphing just how much it was needed.

“What’s so urgent?”

“I have to plan repairs, strengthen the internal walls, reroute the power conduits, install additional firewalls - “

“Yeah, and though that’s necessary it’s not  _ urgent,  _ is it?” Virgil said, thinking none of that was actually needed until Five was manned again. Luckily the satellite was still fully functional, with all processes diverted to the island, it just wasn’t powered enough to be habitable. 

“Neither is a trip to Texas. I can’t do any good there, but I can here.”

“You don’t believe that surely? I’m sure you know how having  family around is believed to be beneficial for a patient.” Virgil had been reading up.

“I’m not family.” Brains said gruffly.

“Like hell you are. ” Virgil frowned “ You are just as much family as Kayo and to be honest it’s starting to seem a little bit cold to me that you won’t go. He had serious  injuries, you know.”

“ Of course I know,” Brains snapped, throwing the pie at the floor where it landed with a sad little splat. “I’m the one who put him there.”

They looked down at the pile of fallen food between them, Brains shoulders slumping. “I tried to kill him, Virgil ” the words ripped out of him.

“That wasn’t you - “

“I tried to kill him and I almost succeeded. I can’t go to the hospital. I just can’t”

Virgil dumped the remainder of the food on a nearby surface and grabbed Brains by the shoulders, resisting the urge to shake him. Up close Brains was rumpled, eyes blood shot and red rimmed.

“That wasn’t you. You aren’t responsible for what happened.”

“And yet I’m the one who sent the commands. I let my guard down while I was away and the Hood found his window of opportunity, the weak link.”

“You are not a weak link, how could you think that?”

“Well it happened didn’t it?”

“Brains, this sort of talk isn’t like you. Have you had any sleep at all?”

Brains shook his head. “Not really. I  keep having dreams. Nightmares. Flashbacks maybe. Of trying to take Two, trying to destroy Five. Of back in the hotel room.”  The man  shuddered and Virgil held in a sigh: it was worse than he thought. 

“Then sleep is the first order of the day.”

“No” Brains shook himself free of Virgil’s hold “I have work to do.”

“It can wait. Honestly Brains, whatever you are thinking up I’m sure it will be great. You’ll replace and upgrade the  tech, patch whatever backdoors or weaknesses are there. That’s going to be easy. But I need you to do the hard part first. You need to take care of yourself, or let us do it.”

“Why would you want to, after what I’ve done?”

“Because you are family, and no matter what the Hood tried to use you to do, nothing will change that.” Brains didn’t look convinced. “We’re here for you. I’ve got a couple of things that will help you sleep if you like.”

Brians glanced at the sprawled mess of paperwork that littered the room. “Maybe I would think a little bit clearer after some sleep.” he admitted. “I’m not up to seeing John though – “

Virgil raised a hand to stop him “Let’s come back to that later when you’re feeling more yourself” and Brains nodded in reluctant agreement.

One problem at a time.


	8. Chapter 8

Problem  2 :  amongst the continuing shifting of family members on and off the island Scott had only been home twice and for a total of about four hours.

In the first few hours that Scott had sat by John’s bedside one of the friendly  staff had told him there was a mess hall just one floor down that he was welcome to use. He was grateful for the offer, but hadn’t dared to venture that far. Even leaving the room  to stretch his legs down the hall had  set his nerves twanging  and he had quickly retreated to the sketchy  sanctuary where his brother lay.  Sometimes some kindly soul bought him a sandwich or a hot cup of tea, and that was enough. 

Scott was just dozing off again  in the clinical silence  when the door softly opened, startling him awake in confusion . Medical staff had been checking on John once every few hours, but  surely they had only just been? Was it that time already? But no, this was no doctor and Scott found himself enveloped in Virgil’s strong hug.

“Hey.” He said, against his brother’s shoulder. 

“Hey.” Virgil said in return,  pushing  him  to  arms reach to study him.  “ You look like shit by the way.”

Scott rolled his eyes  and snorted.  “Thanks , you always say the nicest things. ”

Virgil eyes him, appraising. “How much sleep have you been getting?”

“As much as possible, but these chairs aren’t exactly  clouds and marshmallows. Don’t worry.” Scott waved a hand, dismissing it as a minor concern.

“Sure. I’m not worrying.” Virgil  said blandly and  fished around in the backpack he had bought with him . He  passed over a large thermos. 

“Coffee? Fantastic!” Scott said eagerly at the thought of a caffeine boost.

“No, not coffee. It’s a fruit smoothie. With some added supplements because I guess you’ve been eating as much as you’ve been sleeping and it’s starting to show.”

Scott suppressed a grimace – the comment was probably fair after all – and took a swig of the refreshing concoction. A quick adjustment of the chairs and they were both sat, one on each side of John’s bed.

“How is  everyone? How is  Brains doing?” Scott asked.

“Poorly, as you would expect. He’s thrown himself into his work and repairs to Five, but that’s just saving up problem s for another day I think. But you’d know that if you came home.” Virgil crossed his arms, the criticism clear.

“I can’t leave Virgil. I can’t leave him alone . ”

“I’m not suggesting it! But it’s not like you’re his only family: we’re all worried and would gladly sit with him long enough for you to get a change of clothes and some sleep.” Virgil said reproachfully. 

Scott shook his head. “No. I need to be here.”

Virgil gave a snort. “Feeling very self important are we? You’re the first one he sees when he wakes up.”

“No, I need to be here in case he -” Scott cut himself off. “In case the doctors have any news.” Virgil frowned as Scott continued. “If something happens and it’s Gordon here, or Alan. On their own, with people in their face and \- . Well, I can’t let them deal with that.”

Virgil gave a slow nod, big-brother solidarity kicking in though hopefully  Virgil  didn’t realise Scott’s reasoning also applied to him.

“Fine. But I’m here for a bit so at least go get something proper to eat. And have a shave. You really do look like shit, like when we lost Dad. If John wakes up to see you like this he’s going to panic.”

That was the crux of it really, that was Scott’s biggest fear : one that he had kept tamped right down and the one that kept Scott at his near constant vigil.  

“What if he doesn’t?” Scott asked in a small voice , closing his eyes and dropping his shoulders in defeat.

“What if he doesn’t what?” Virgil asked, confused.

“Wake up.”

Virgil reached over the bed, clasped  Scott’s hand tight. “He will.”

“You can’t  kn o w that.”

“Look at him.” Virgil said, with a nod in John’s direction.

Scott did. John lay between them, pale and still. Bruises covered his face, shoulders and chest. Bandages wrapped tightly around his arms to protect his burns : apart from where I.v’s had been inserted. A dressing covered his abdomen so his surgery wound could be kept free from infection. 

“He looks like he’s dying. He should have woken up by now.” Scott said softly.  John usually had a vibrant intensity about him, even when still in concentration, that was completely absent. 

Across the bed Virgil sighed.  Virgil had many different types of sigh and a sigh  like  that was usually reserved for when Gordon said something particularly dumb. “No Scott, look again. Surgery removed the shrapnel and saved his liver. The burns are going to take a while to heal but he won’t need skin grafts. Broken shoulder will be ok as long as he doesn’t move it too much. His blood pressure is stable, pulse is nice and strong. And the swelling on his brain  _ is  _ going down. That’s all that’s keeping him asleep right now.”

“He’s not asleep, Virgil. I wouldn’t be worried if he was just  _ asleep.   _ He’s in a god-damn coma.”

Virgil sat back. “He’s a fighter. He’s going to be ok.”

“Sometimes fighting isn’t enough. _Strength of will_ won’t beat blood loss, or organ failure, or - “

“ No, the medical treatment is doing that .”  

“How can you be so sure ?”

“Because I can’t think anything else.” Virgil’s face crumpled and Scott had a glimpse of someone else trying to stay strong for the rest of the family. Someone who needed his big brother to be strong for _him._ “Is that why you haven’t been home? You think John is going to die and you don’t want anyone else to be here on their own when it happens.” 

Scott nodded mutely. 

Virgil sighed again. “Do you know how much of an idiot you are sometimes?” Scott nodded again. “Good. Here’s what’s going to happen – you are going to go have a wash up and a shave while I do the same for John.” Virgil fished out two shaving kits from his bag, and tossed one Scott’s way. “He hates having stubble. The n we are going to go over his med data until you can see that he is  _ getting better.   _ Then you are going to go home and get some proper sleep.”

Scott allowed himself to be shooed into the  ensuite , and went through the motions of a quick wash and a slower shave with the thoughtfully-put-together contents of the wash bag.  He pondered the changes in himself as he went through the ritual of water, lather and blade. The face he saw in the mirror was unfamiliar to him – dark circles under the eyes, brow crinkled in a frown above them, lips pinched tight together. He threw a hand full of cold water to wipe that  expression away. 

Scott  thought he was being realistic and preparing for the worst case, protecting the others in a way he failed at protecting John. He knew that Virgil and Kayo could keep an eye on what was going on back at home, which freed him up to be here.

Once he would have not been so quick to jump to the worst possible  scenario,. But once he had two parents and didn’t make life or death decisions every day. Once he would have looked for his own information before drawing a conclusion – he had barely given a glance to the med displays in all the time he had been here. When had he become so reliant on being spoon-fed things he was meant to know?  When John became so  damn  good at giving answers before the questions were even asked, that’s when.

Scott took a few more minutes to gather himself, shake the tension out his arms and set his shoulders to face whatever Virgil had for him. Virgil had been busy: not only was John as fresh faced as ever (and didn’t it show just how ill he looked with uncharacteristic stubble, similar to the haunted face Scott had seen in the mirror) but there was also a summary of  John’s condition and, looking at it from a slightly more optimistic point of view, he was definitely making progress. 

“You ready to go home and get some rest? I’ll stay.” Virgil said  as Scott read.  “I’ll even let you fly Two.”

“In a bit.” Scott s aid, turning off the data pad to sit , as he had been before , and took one of John’s hands. “I promise. I just want to be here for a little bit longer now I’m feeling.....” he trailed off.

“Now you’re feeling not like quite like out brother is going to die and you’re sitting here waiting for it?” Virgil said with a smile, and sat opposite to mirror Scott. “Sure.”

That was exactly it: there was a big difference between waiting for death and waiting for life and it had taken a kick up the butt from Virgil for him to see what side of the line he had been. The silence was different now – not filled with solemn dread. Scott was no longer bearing a burden alone which meant he was also not alone when he felt the first faint twitches of John’s fingers under his hand.


	9. Chapter 9

There was always a hum. Night or day, a constant background drone in the world he lived in. Some found it annoying, John knew, but to him it was a comfort. Each system had  it’s own particular tone that melded together into one sound that said ‘safety’: for if the  _ sound  _ wasn’t right it meant the   _ systems  _ weren’t right and it might be time to put his helmet on.

John couldn’t tell if it were night or day right now, but the sound he was so carefully attuned to wasn’t right. There was barely even a hum at all. Something beeped, but none of his systems should beep like that and it intruded in on his thoughts. It made him aware of the surrounding  darkn ess and how still he was. Was he asleep? Dreaming? It was a bit dark for that.

What was the damn beeping? Not the oxygen recycler or the lighting panels. The airlocks shrieked more than beeped, at least they did when opened and spewing atmosphere into the void. It wasn’t  _ right _ which meant he didn’t know what was going on and he felt a brief flare of panic that spluttered out: he didn’t have the energy to sustain it. It didn’t seem to matter. 

Sometimes there were grumbles:  subtly different in tone but easily distinguishable for someone who was so accustomed to noticing small changes in his environment. Sometimes he thought there might be sense to them: words on the edge of understanding but when he tried to focus it melted away. They were  infuriatingly and confusingly familiar and nonsensical.

There was a lot of numbness, in that darkness that wasn’t sleep, as if he’d sat on his foot for too long, but over his entire body. The only feeling was when something plucked at him: his arms, his chest, his feet. He wanted to be left alone. Why wouldn’t they let him sleep? He didn’t want to sleep anymore. Was he asleep? 

He was so confused. 

Worse than the annoying plucking was an annoying itch. Right under his chin. It nagged at him. He couldn’t rest, couldn’t  _ sleep,  _ with the itching and the plucking and the grumbling and the god-damn beeping. 

* * *

 

When they reported the twitches, the doctors told them not to expect too much too soon. They said that it was a good yet early sign and they would need more patience before there was much more improvement. 

Scott and Virgil had shared a look and said nothing: doctors knew medicine but they knew John, and like all the Tracey’s John never stopped once he had started something. They weren’t a family of quitters.  So it came as no surprise to them when just a few hours later John began mumbling and the twitches became proper movement.

Scott had to catch  John’s  hand, worried that he would dislodge one of his  i.v lines as he waved it around, and pulled it back down to the bed.

“Just lie still would you.” he said softly ,  not expecting a response.

“C’n’t.”

Scott took a sharp breath inwards, heart leaping suddenly and Virgil sat up straighter, alert. That was more than a mumble!

“What was that?” Scott leaned in close to hear John’s quiet reply. 

“ C’n’t . It’hy”

“Itchy? Where?”

“Chin.”

“We’ll take care of that, you just need to lie still, ok?”

“K.”

Virgil rubbed a soothing hand over John’s chin and neck to release whatever irritation was held there.

“Better?”  Virgil  asked in a tone that was usually reserved for those they rescued: confident tones carefully crafted to be reassuring and calming . “Must have been from when I shaved you earlier. If I’d have known that was all it  takes I would have done it a lot earlier. Can you open your eyes for us?”

“Can sh’ve m’self” John muttered, sounding grumpy at the suggestion he was incapable. “Mmmm eyes _are  '_ pen.”

Scott smiled: John hadn’t said that for years , but as kid it had been a common mantra when he was being turfed out of bed to avoid being late for school.

“They’re really not. Will you try?”

John huffed, but with some obvious effort began to move his lids. Scott grabbed a nearby cloth and wiped some of the detritus of sleep from his eyes, helping them to unstick. With some gentle encouragement on their  part  and frantic blinking on John’s they could at last look him in the eye.

“You have no idea how happy we are to see you awake.” Virgil said, leaning in and giving John’s arm a squeeze.

John’s gaze shifted back and forth : skipping and jumping, looking a little unfocused but also clearly able to discern between the two of them.

“Did my  a lr ’ m n’t go off?” 

“Something like that.” Then in a lower voice Scott turned to Virgil “Go get someone.” he instructed. Virgil gave a nod and left the room swiftly. This day had been quite a turnaround: from despair in the morning to a quiet hope with Virgil’s arrival that had flourished in the last few minutes.

“Should h’ve w’ken me up.” 

“We tried.”

John moved his arm again, perhaps to scratch that pesky itch, but paused with his hand just above the bed. He glanced down and Scott thought he might be realising for the first time that he wasn’t actually at home as his confused gaze travelled from the line on the back of his hand to the monitors to the unfamiliar view from an unfamiliar room.

John frowned and the digital representations of his heart and blood pressure began to pick up. He tentatively touched his stomach, where that wicked piece of shrapnel had shredded him. 

Scott caught that hand  before it could mess with the bandages  and gave it a gentle squeeze to bring John’s attention back to him.

“You need to leave that alone and calm down. I know you’re good at staying calm under pressure and I need you to use that now. Just ..... take a few deep breath s or something.”

John did as he was told but then shifted sharply with a grimace and a hiss. “Scott.” he pleaded  voice scratchy but noticeably stronger. “What’s  goin ’ on. Why does it  h’rt ?”

Scott didn’t think anything could be harder than the days watching over John as he lay comatose and still, but maybe, just maybe, seeing his little brother confused and in pain was worse. He squeezed his hand harder.

“ What do you remember?”

“Beeping.”

“Beeping?”

“Yeah.  S’mething’s beeping.  But it’s  n’t the air lock.”

Scott spared a quick glance at the array of monitoring equipment that was indeed issuing an array of beeps and pips – it had formed the background to his days and nights: a rhythm conducted by John’s heart and lungs. 

“Not the air lock. Don’t worry about it. The beeps are a good thing.”

“Oh. ‘K” 

“Do you remember being on Five. There was...... an explosion.”

“Yes. No. Maybe.  S’mething with.... Brains?” John’s brow creased and Scott didn’t know to be worried that he was having trouble or pleased that John might be spared the memories of those terrifying moments. All Scott could do was offer a few words of comfort as the medical staff rushed in and he was once again ushered into the corridor where Virgil was lurking.

“He talking?” Virgil asked, leaning against a wall.

“Yeah. He’s a bit confused and I don’t know how much he remembers, but he’s talking. He’s actually  _ awake  _ Virgil.” Scott found that his eyes were a bit moist from the relief, unashamedly wiping them on Virgil’s shirt as the other pulled him in for a tight hug. 

“What did I tell you?” Virgil said in his ear.

They only pulled away  when a doctor  slipped out  of  the room, closing the door behind her. 

“We are very pleased with his condition. Very pleased indeed.” She said briskly. “He’s likely to have some moments of disorientation and he is on quite a lot of pain relief while we find the right level, so it’s perfectly normal for him to not make much sense.”

“When he can he come home?” Scott asked.

“My, you like to  move fast don’t you? Let’s just give it a few days to properly assess any lasting affects before we start talking about discharge. ” She was a little disapproving, but now that John was awake Scott just wanted him home. “ You can go back in if you like, but he’s asleep again. He did say to tell you -” the doctor smiled , looking Scott directly in the eye  “ - that you looked tired and were grounded for twenty four hours.  He told you to go home and get some sleep .”

Scott could imagine John saying just that. He’d said it on a couple of previous occasions when they had burned the candle at both ends, pushing man and machine to their limits. He’d never said it from a hospital bed before, but as usual Scott had to admit he was right.

“That sounds like a really good idea.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wohooo! another chapter down - took me a while to wrangle this, but I made it in the end.
> 
> I'm looking forward to the next one - I'm putting some things that I hope are fun in there

Problem  3 : EOS

When Brains attacked Thunderbird Five, the first thing he did was disable the security systems, including the ever-vigilant resident AI, trapping her in a looping set of protocols from which there was no escape. Well that’s what he first thought when -  of clearer mind and waiting for news about John’s surgery -  he went back over his actions. In those anxious hours he transferred her core data onto a mobile storage unit, and had been studied it closely: based on his findings he now wasn’t so sure. 

Anaylising the patterns showed that each cycle was getting shorter and he scratched his head over whether this was because her code was degrading or she was breaking out of the protocol. He wasn’t an expert on AI’s, it was far from his speciality and luckily he didn’t need to be. Because they _had_ an expert. 

Brains had  meant one of the others to take EOS to John but somehow Virgil cajoled him along  with talk of a change of scenery and the old NASA museum, so he found  himself standing in a clean, bright, antiseptic-smelling corridor. 

A nurse stopped them just before they reached the closed door :  “Make it quick, make it quiet. He didn’t have a very good night.” She  cautioned. 

“Maybe I should come back another day?” Brains said, eager to get out of this visit if he could . He hadn’t thought about it too much on the flight here but now his nerves were pinging and stomach tightening at the thought of facing John –  conversing with him – for the first time. 

“No,” Virgil told Brains firmly,  “we need to get EOS sorted,” then  telling the nurse  more politel y “We will keep the stress to a minimum. What’s the problem?”

“He didn’t sleep well and we’re titrating the pain relief down now: it’s too dangerous to keep it at higher levels.”

 Virgil nodded and stepped into the room, dragging Brains behind him.

“Morning!” He said cheerily, but got a dull, slow blink in response. John had been coming back to himself over the past few days – shaking of his long nap and becoming more alert, but today clearly reversed some of that progress. Yesterday John had been sitting up, talking, eating, but now he laid back and looked completely exhausted.

“Don’t start.” John said grimly. “Everyone has been unbearably upbeat today.”

“Well, if you’re the odd one out you are probably the problem.” Virgil told him, pulling a chair round.

“Thanks. That’s really helpful.” John said with a deep slow breath. “What are the chances you can persuade them to let me home today?”

“About as low as the chances of you persuading me to fly you home.” Virgil said, quickly quashing that idea. “You not enjoying your holiday?” It was indeed rare that any of them got any extended time away and John was harder than most to tear away from the day job, but the joke only got a glare in response. 

“You’ll be pleased we bought you something to do then.” Virgil waved Brains forward, from where he had been shifting nervously by the door. 

“I..... er ......” Brains visibly swallowed, eyes fixed on the ground.

“You ok Brains?” John asked, a wave of concern passing over his face, chasing away the tiredness. It was amazing how quickly someone else in distress could push a Tracey’s own problems to one side. They were irritatingly admirable like that which made Brains feel even worse. 

“I … ..... I.” Brains took a couple of steps closer and tried to keep the shaking to a minimum. This was his first visit. The first time he had seen his friend  in person: seen the fading bruises, dark circles under the eyes, heavy bandaging. It was almost too much: the weight of the damage he had wrought pressing on his chest. 

John pushed himself up slightly, hissing as he moved “What’s wrong?  You look like you’re about to pass out. Virgil, have you been keeping an eye out for after affects?”

“Keep still” Virgil said with exasperation, trying to push him back. “Brains  is fine. Working himself a little hard even for him.” Virgil shot him a reprimanding look. 

“Oh,” John allowed himself to be pushed back disappointment and a whole other sort of hurt creeping in to his voice. “I thought you  ….. that you hadn’t been because....... well. Never mind. You were too busy.”

Brains had kept himself busy. As busy as he had ever been to avoid thinking and so he went to bed too tired to dream: dreams that were confusing and haunting and always ended with a firework in orbit.

“Don’t be like that John.” Virgil told him “Brains has been putting together the plans for improvement to Five, right?” Brains nodded silently and John perked up a bit.

“That’s great. Can I see?” He gestured to the storage device.

“This. This isn’t the plans. This is EOS.” He lay the unit of the bed, nearby to John’s bandaged hand. “When I....” He licked his lips and didn’t finish the sentence. “She’s in a holding al gorithm and it’s deteriorating. And I don’t know if it’s a good thing.”

John squeezed the device and the holo-status screen sprang to life. A brief glance was all it took for him to be able to diagnose “She’s fine. Getting annoyed and dizzy no doubt, but look here” he pointed at a particular section of code “she’s working her way out.”

“Well that’s a relief . ” Virgil said. “Can you unlock it? Save  her  all that work?”

“Sure. Might be better to do it on the island on a closed system though – Scott's always been a bit wary about letting her off the network.”

“We’ll do it here.” Virgil said, firm. John raised a questioning eyebrow. “We’re worried that she might be a bit, err how to put it, angry. And we might need your help to calm her down.”

“What you think is going to happen? That she’ll go on some sort of rampage?” John frowned. 

“Yes, to be honest. Come on, she’s got history.” The  _ last   _ time John was nearly killed in space had been down to here and though John might have forgiven some, Scott in particular, didn’t forget. 

John rolled his eyes, and picked up the unit, pressing keys to enter whatever coding was needed to unlock the programme. “That’s in the past. She’s family now and you  lot  need to  learn to trust her a bit more .” 

John took several deep breathes as he worked, his injuries clearly troubling him, at one point stopping completely and closing his eyes tight.

“We can come back later” Brains suggested, another wave of guilt  surging  over him.

“No, it’s ok.” John put the device down  with a deep sigh.  “It’s done.” Even that small effort had clearly wearied him .

T he screen that usually showed  John's  vital signs flickered and warped into a familiar ring of lights.

“Ow.” She complained, petulant “That tingled Brains, and not in a good way.”

“I’m sorry EOS.” Brains said, finding it hard to swallow for the tension he felt. He honestly had no idea what she might do, what vengeance she might reek. She had become very attached to John and though she often acted like a child she most definitely was not. Bringing her to the centre of a highly advanced, high security, highly secure defence facility. 

“ Y ou are forgiven” she returned brightly  and the visions of building burning and machinery turning against them faded away.  “I know you weren’t quite yourself. Neither are you John.” She addressed the astronaut – who was looking more  gray and struggling to keep his eyes open with each passing minute.

“I’ll be fine  EOS, I just need to rest.” he sighed out.

“Agreed, and since it’s your idea you won’t have any objections when I get the staff in here to check on you,  right ?” Virgil said, and Brains could see that John had boxed himself into a corner. It was a mark of how off he was feeling that he had put himself in that position in the first place  and he ungracefully  conceded .  

“Fine.” He agreed, and Virgil started to move both of them from the room, grabbing  EOS’s unit  – w hich  she had zipped back to - as they went. “Are we all good EOS?”

“ Of course, ” EOS pipped up, “I have s s everal ideas how we can strengthen our security systems, improve Thunderbird Five’s power distribution and  h unt down the Hood. And I am very keen to get started. ”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, this is starting to cause me some problems, because I started to post this on a one-word prompt before plotting it out properly. But we will get there in the end, I promise!

John swore under his breath as he was pushed back to his room. Physiotherapy sucked. Hospitals sucked. Painkillers sucked. Lack of painkillers sucked. And physiotherapy particularly sucked. 

Despite all the progress he had made over the last few days the consultant had been resolute there would be no discharge until he could manage his own transfers from the chair. 

Many people  might  assume that floating around in space all day  was not physically straining but not only did he have to maintain a level of fitness sufficient to carry out a successful solo rescue, pushing and pulling around the station twenty four seven was a constant workout.  So  at least  he wasn’t starting from a zero position and he was u s ed to using his arms more than his legs , but it was still bloody difficult to go through his daily exercises.

John was only able a couple of shaky steps before his knees gave out and it burned that he had to be helped so much. He was making progress -  slow as it was after his long sleep – but as he was used to making and keeping to his own timetable unrestricted by wobbly legs and aching muscles. 

John’s spirits were lifted when he heard a shout  up ahead , and the pounding of feet bought Gordon in to sight. He  and Alan had arrived not long before his physio session and it was a relief that they were still here: the days were long and his concentration wasn’t quite there yet for catching up on his reading. 

Gordon gave a cheeky smile and subtly elbowed the orderly out the way, taking  the handles of his chair. 

“I’ll take over from here, I’m used to pushing the se guys around.” 

Gordon waited until the orderly had retreated a safe distance, keen to get on with whatever other work they needed to do, before whispering to John. “Can’t have any staff in your room just yet.”

“Why? What have you done?” John asked with suspicion, trying to twist to see Gordon’s face: the only true way to tell just how much trouble he had caused. He couldn’t manage it though and gave up before he burst any stitches. 

“Don’t worry, they’ll only mildly disapprove, though they will confiscate it. Alan  is  just getting  the  last while I set up.” Gordon pushed him slowly to his private room in a manner, John was sure, that was designed to build tension. Gordon could be very melodramatic.

“Tell me, this isn’t good for my blood pressure.”

“Urgh, you have to use the guilt card don’t you. Fine. Well, you remember this morning you were complaining about the food?”

“I was not complaining.”

“You were too.”

He hadn’t complained about the food.

Alan had noticed his half eaten and congealed breakfast as John was getting ready for his physio. He had merely mentioned that practically everything he ate was dehydrated, rehydrated, reconstituted or made with more love than skill by their grandmother ; and the contents of that bowl were still the worst thing he had ever eaten.

“Well, you were combing through my private medical records and making personal remarks.” John reminded  Gordon.

“I was not.”

“You were too.”

“I only glanced, and made the insightful and pertinent observation that you had lost weight since you woke up.” Gordon said smugly, as if that made all the difference – a distinction that John refused to  acknowledge .

“See personal.”

“Damn it, John, they’re not going to discharge you while you’re losing weight, beanpole as you are , and you know that.” Gordon sounded exasperated. Under that cheerful playful exterior  as the  soul  of a personal trainer and could quote the nutritional content of any food you cared to name.  And a heart full of concern for his family. 

“Maybe if they had something a little more appetising on  offer I might be inclined to eat it.” John grumped. He ached all over, was tired all the time, and the tight feeling of healing skin pulled on his arms whenever he moved them. To be honest it just wasn’t worth the effort it cost him to eat the ‘food’ here.

“Exactly.” Gordon said in triumph. “So in order to avoid you having some kind of slurry pumped directly into your stomach I came up with this brilliant, nay genius, idea.”

“I doubt that.”

“I found a friendly looking janitor and asked him for the lowdown on this fair city, and as a result  Alan and I have dashed to every  high quality establishment to fetch you...... ”  Gordon swept  them  into the room…

….... where, laid out on a variety wrappers and boxes was a display of more food than John had seen since last Thanksgiving. Well, maybe excluding the weekly Sunday family brunch.

On his side table were what looked like half a dozen burgers. The end of his bed was covered by an assortment of tex mex dishes and Alan was still wrestling with a bag that contained some sort of dessert.

“What is all this? John whispered in amazement.

“Just a few things – we went to Freddy’s, Moe’s a couple of other places. Nothing that wasn’t recommended by a local though. And all he asked in return was a piece of pie.”

Alan cut something thick, gooey and chocolatey and put it to one side on a paper plate that was labelled ‘For Mr  Hoid ’.

“Let’s hope he didn’t want fruit pie – we're keeping all of that.” Alan said with a grin.

“Guys! I don’t think I’m meant to have this sort of food in here.” John said with a soft smile at the feast of delicacies. He felt a faint pang of hunger at the smell of something actually  _ appetizing  _ for a change that he was looking forward to eating something for the first time since he woke up. 

“Then you better eat it quick then though we’ll help if you need it.” Gordon said, handing him a fork.  “I f you’re not going to be the sensible one then I guess it will be up to me and make sure you’re fit enough to be discharged.”

“You? The sensible one?” Alan scoffed, eyeing a particularly beastly looking burger.

Gordon screwed his face up in  disgruntlement. “I know. It’s weird. Sort yourself out so you can come home John, and things can go back to normal.”


	12. Chapter 12

Normal was a while away but it was inching closer now that John had been transferred to the island. He was under the watchful eye of a host of siblings, a concerned grandmother and a very pernickity AI who was closely monitoring every ounce of food and milligram of medication he consumed. It was smothering to someone who was used to commanding the schedules of others to suddenly be at their mercy, but he knew it came from a place of love and of worry so he bore it with good grace. And he did need their help: he was too physically weak and tired too quickly to dare be too far from a helping hand. 

Brians spent as much time as possible working: drafting the plans that would secure Thunderbird Five – secure all the machines – against sabotage in the future, and then redrafting once EOS had given her input. For him days passed in a haze of work and sleep and more work, so he almost didn’t notice that when he stumbled into the kitchen to refuel yet again everyone had congregated to meet him.

“Good, you’re here Brains. We can get started.” Scott said, interrupting his train of thought that involved double-insulation and would need a whole new manufacturing process. Scott gestured to one of the few unoccupied chairs which Brains slouched to, hesitantly. 

“What’s going on?” Brains asked, looking around with worry at the pensive faces of the Tracy family. 

“I think we’re all agreed.” Scott started, looking around for approval from the room “that what happened has really shaken us. But now we’re over the shock and John is on the mend we have to face that we were lax. We let our guard down and that was taken advantage of.” He got his approval: solemn nods followed his gaze in a ripple. “If it’s one thing we’re good at  it’s learning from our mistakes, and it’s time we made some changes to.”

“I understand.” Brains said, lump in his throat. He thought this day would come – it was surprising that it had taken this long. “I’ll pack my bags straight away – I'll be ready to go in a few hours. I’ll leave all my work, if you want a second opinion before you implement anything EOS will do a good job. I know it’s not going to mean anything right now but I truly am very sorry, and I am so proud of what you have all managed to achieve, and I’ll always be honoured to think that I had some small part to play and.....” Brains stammered to a halt before he could completely lose his composure.

“What’s he talking about?” Alan leaned to Gordon, and stage-whispered out the corner of his mouth.

“I think - “ said Virgil, arms crossed and eyes rolling “-I think  _ he  _ thinks that we are kicking him off the island.”

“ Ohhhhhh ” Alan said, drawing out the one letter to fill the tense atmosphere. “Why?”

“Like Scott said, I’m the weak kink that was taken advantage of and you can’t afford to have that level of exposure.” Brains explained.

Scott sighed, ran his hands through his hair and looked to the ceiling – for help, for inspiration, for patience – who knew. “That’s not what I said Brains. Sit down will you. Virgil said you were spending too much time working and I should have dealt with this sooner.”

Brains slid into the indicated chair, now completely at a loss about where this was going. 

“Can we address the elephant in the room? Get it all out in the open?” John looked tired, but determined, blanket snug around his legs, bandages still up his arms, propped up on a multitude of pillows so he could rest his core. “The Hood tried to steal a Thunderbird and used you to do it. In the process he nearly destroyed Five, but we don’t blame  _ you  _ for that.”

Brains shook his head. “You don’t understand. You nearly died. _ I nearly killed you,  _ John.” The words tore out of him, deep and despairing. “How can you stand to be around me?”

“I understand, I was there. But it doesn’t matter because that wasn’t you. I will say it again and again and again until it sinks in.” John made a stabbing gesture at every other word, then let his hands rest in his lap with a wince. It must be difficult for a man so usually caught up in gestures to have to stop ‘speaking’ with his hands.  “You are a part of this family and we are not letting that – man – destroy that.”

It took a moment for that to sink in. He wasn’t leaving? John might actually forgive him? That was so shocking that he missed the concerned eyebrow Virgil raised in John’s direction, the dismissive shake of the head John gave him in return, the ‘wrap it up’ gesture Virgil made to Scott.

“That all aside, we do have to change. We’ve been waiting for the Hood to act and reacting to him, but that has to stop. I’m done sitting around while he thinks up ways to attack my family. We are going after him and for that we need information, and for that we need you Brains.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re our edge.  Because he wants something from you.”


	13. Chapter 13

“From me?”

“Yes, our machines. You were going to deliver at least one of them to him, and if I know my uncle that wasn’t his only plan” Kayo said from where she was lounging “information would have been almost as valuable. So I bet there was a way to get you to hand over plans or schematic or something.”

“Perhaps, that sounds like him” Brains agreed, “but unfortunately if that is the case I don’t know a thing about it.”

“ Sure you do. It would have been part of the instructions he planted in your subconscious – we just need to help you access them.”

“Is that even possible?” Brains frowned in thought – this wasn’t really his area of expertise, he was much better at physical problems than psychological ones.

“Maybe, there are various techniques to aid memory recovery. If you are willing to try  it we could work out where he is going to be, lay a trap and catch this son of a bitch.” John leant forward in his enthusiasm, leaning slightly to one side to avoid whatever was his most aggravating injury today. 

If only it wasn’t John that was asking. For anyone else he might have hedged, hesitated at least, queried what was involved, done his own research. But right  now there was very little he could refuse John, what with the fading bruises and dark circles under his eyes.

And that’s how Brains found himself in the med bay strapped up to various monitoring machines and having just received a hefty dose of a cocktail of relaxants and what he was sure was a mild  hallucinogenic . 

Scott gave him a firm, reassuring squeeze of the shoulder but Brains was already starting to drift. His head was heavy, pressing deeply so deeply into the bed it was in danger of being swallowed, his sight blurring until he was surrounded by a  rainbow of oil on water.

“This might be quite intense in places.” Virgil was saying, his voice strangely clear but with an echo to it, as if there were two Virgil’s speaking in not-quite unison. “A bit like a lucid dream if you’ve ever had one of those, but we are right here with you.”

“Uh huh” Brains muttered to the swirling room.

“You have to go back to the conference where you met the Hood.”

He had been settling in for the night, dithering between a quick shower and a bite to eat or just a long bath before bed. The scene jumped and he was opening door to the impatient rapping – Brains hadn’t wanted the noise to disturb his neighbours at this late hour. 

“I opened the door” Brains murmured, narrating the action of his dream  self .

“And he would have made you let him in.”

The smell of lilac had been sudden and overpowering, dazing him. He staggered back, almost tripping as he thumped down on the bed. 

“He.... He.....” Brains struggled to speak, the memory convulsing as he tried to recall what the Hood had said to lower his barriers, to access his mind in such a foul way. Probably a biological agent, making him suggestible to those burning, piercing eyes. Brains knew that the power of his mind was by far his greatest strength so the fact that he was reduced to a deer in the headlights so swiftly was a matter of shame, the pressure of another  consciousness on his almost too much to  bare .

“Brains, your heart rate has gone up too high, too quickly. We don’t need to know the method he used on you: let’s skip over that and go straight to the part where he gave you instructions.” Virgil said, soothing.

With a second of focus Brains found himself able to ease out of that stuttering moment with  it’s swirling darkness to something sometime later when the Hood’s gaze was not so intense. The Hood was speaking – a snort of contempt when he named the Tracey’s; a lingering curl of avarice when he spoke of the Thunderbirds.

“Where were you going to take Two?” Kayo asked, her voice drifting through the scene.

Brains reeled off the co-ordinates in unison with the Hood, remembering before they were spoken in an uncomfortable incident of  deju vu. 

“And if you were going to deliver something a little bit smaller?”

“Check back in” the Hood said with smug  superiority . “I’ll be watching the hotel so you can hand over all your little secrets.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At long last, here is the conclusion - thank you for all your suport along the way, sorry it took me a while to bring it to this (slightly rushed) end.

“Try not to look so nervous” Kayo’s voice whispered through the ear piece, as Brains gave a slight push to the revolving doors at the entrance to the hotel. “See if you can make it a bit more dazed instead – unfocused.”

“Easier said than done.” Brains muttered, knowing his microphone would pick it up. He had a small camera secreted in a button and knew that he was under any number of watchful eyes: EOS, the GDF, Kayo herself. It was reassuring, but left him no less exposed. He wanted to get this over with but instead of striding to the desk and getting his room key as quickly as possible Brains forced himself to slow down – to amble rather than rush. 

It took an eternity to reach the check –in desk, and the cheery member of staff manning it. 

“Reservation for  Hackenbacker ” He said, trying to keep his eyes forward and not to turn to scan the lobby. The Hood said he would be watching but it was unlikely he would be sat in reception, hiding behind a newspaper with eye holes cut out. Still, the feeling of imagined eyes made the back of his neck tingle and he barely paid any attention to the information the lady was giving: he would have no use for the pool or breakfast after all. It probably fit into the repression of him being confounded anyway. He took the  keycard with a small smile of thanks and drifted to the elevator. 

“8th floor” Kayo reminded him when he hesitated in pushing the button. EOS had made sure he would be allocated a room that suited their needs, and some of the others would already be in place and had been for some hours. 

The doors slid shut. “Any sign?” Brains asked to the empty room as it started  it’s speedy ascent. 

“Not so far, but that’s to be expected. Stick to the plan. Get to the room and stay there. We’ll be ready to strike when he shows.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“He will. And in person. He won’t want to miss this opportunity and he won’t trust anyone else with it. Trust me.”

The elevator pinged, doors drawing back before Brains could say that how much he trusted her judgement: Kayo was a force to be  reckoned  with when she set her mind to something. Some years  ago she decided the  Tracys would Be Safe and she worked tirelessly to ensure that. Now she had decided that the Hood’s freedom was Over and there would be no obstacle or setback that would stop her achieving that. I would only be a matter of time but Brains fervently hoped the time was now, before the Hood could hurt anyone else. 

The corridor was empty, thick carpeting muffling his footsteps on the way to his designated room. The corridor stayed stubbornly empty as his key beeped, letting him peer cautiously into the room.  Even though there was no way that the Hood could have spotted him entering the hotel, found out his room and beat him there while he was travelling in the elevator. But for his peace of mind he still checked in the bathroom, wardrobe and under the bed. 

“What now?”

“Watch some TV or something. The hard part is done.”

* * *

Scott was waiting again. Scott always found waiting the hardest: he could tackle any problem or any challenge as long as he was actively doing something. He certainly couldn’t do John’s job: eternally waiting to see how things played out would drive him round the twist and there was just too much time to think about how things might go wrong. 

Five was almost back to full working order and once it was John would be chomping at the bit to get up there again, no matter what the doctor’s said. It was a  full time job keeping little brothers in check, making sure they didn’t push too hard or too soon. Scott was thinking about having a chat with Brains and EOS to see if there could be a couple of ‘delays’ to the refit, just to make sure Five wasn’t ready before John was, so he didn’t have to tell him he couldn’t go back on duty yet. 

Right  now though Scott would have gladly swapped this thumb-twiddling waiting for that conversation with John. He was ensconced in a room across the hall from Brains, silent camera feeds rerouted by their helpful AI to his own TV. It was a boring show – only four people had passed in the last forty five minutes, none stopping nearby. And not even an ad break. 

This was it, their opportunity to catch the Hood and put an end to all his shenanigans. There had been an itch under his skin for a while now, ever since the Hood had ramped up the aggressiveness of his operations and Scott had let it go on for far too long, had let the danger far too close. John may be well on the mend but Scott hadn’t slept properly since. Next time they might not be so lucky.

Scott’s  nerves were at breaking point when a smartly dressed business man marched swiftly down the hall. He  overshot  slightly as if he didn’t quite know where he was going and took a couple of paces back to rap firmly on Brains’ door.

This was it! Scott pressed himself up  against his own door, peering through the spy hole. 

“I see it Scott,” Kayo said in his ear. “EOS has locked down the elevators but we need him just a bit more contained. As soon as Brains lets him in I’m ready to strike.”

But something wasn’t right – The Hood wasn’t going in, despite the fact that Brains was holding the door wide open. Scott really wished he had a feed into the conversation over there. The Hood took a couple of steps back, was turning....

“Go!” Scott cried “He knows!” He flung open the door so fast it bounced and almost hit him in the back as he rushed through it, hurtling into the corridor and dragging the master criminal down to the floor. He wriggled and wrestled, desperate to get away but this was nothing compared to the squirming a baby could do when they didn’t want a diaper change. Pinning down legs to prevent crawling away was second nature, despite the flailing arms.

 In the long run it might have turned into a fight, maybe even a close one but Scott wasn’t really trying to subdue, just restrain and inconvenience for long enough for Kayo to get there with a squad of GDF special forces. They were exceedingly well trained and the Hood was efficiently cuffed by the time Brains was helping Scott to his feet, reaching into a pocket.

“Sorry about that, I don’t know how he knew I was no longer under his control but he did. He suspected something as soon as I opened the door.” Brains held out the handkerchief he had found.

“That’s fine Brains. That’s why we had a  back up plan.” Scott was out of breath but from the rush of adrenaline more than the fight. “You ok?”

Brains nodded “Glad it’s over.” He gestured again with handkerchief: a ‘take it motion’ that gave Scott a moment of confusion before he felt a hot line trace down his face and a sharp pain above his eyebrow. Taking the cloth gratefully he formed it into a neat compress that smarted when he pushed it against what was probably a small cut from an errant fist – one he hadn’t even noticed in the heat of the moment.

It wasn’t quite the scene he’d imagined: him puffing slightly still, blood on his face, Brains shocked behind him. The Hood was how he had imagined though: the look of outrage at having been caught, outwitted and confined. Handcuffed and firmly escorted out of the building he was throwing dangerous glances their way but Scott knew they would all be sleeping much more  peacefully tonight. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a square on Bad Things Happened Bingo, and of course it had to be Brains because I can't resist a pun.
> 
> But of course, because it's me I somehow made it about John as well.


End file.
